


buck? i'm cold

by wilfre



Series: an island on xinareth [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Gen, Hospitals, Needles, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilfre/pseuds/wilfre
Summary: an old vent piece from february





	buck? i'm cold

He was in a dark room, knees up to his chest. He shifted uncomfortably; it was silent, and there was nothing in the room. It was a perfect, empty cube. No windows. No doors. How did he get in...?

Suddenly, a leak sprang. Crimson liquid gushed from the upper corner of two intersecting walls, and it quickly started to pool around him. He wanted to stand up, to at least move out of the way, but he found himself unable to budge.

Another leak sprang. Then another, and another. All four corners were spilling—he had realized— _blood_ , and despite the constant flow, the level never rose above his chest. Hands rose out of the liquid, poking and jabbing him with needles.

He couldn't move from his place, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much or how hard he tried. He began to sob, and as his tears fell, he saw that they, too, were blood. The thick smell of copper snuck into his nose and down his throat, and he choked at the sensation. He felt as if the blood was filling his lungs, he couldn't breathe—

Bright light spilled into the room from a newly formed doorway-shaped hole, and the blood started draining from the room, the hands disappearing. A lanky, familiar silohette stood there, and said his name.

"Feliks?"

His eyes fluttered open. He was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. To his side was the familiar figure from his dream, his best friend, staring at him with concern.

"Oh my fucking Gods— Feliks?! Are you— Hang in there, okay? Feliks? Can you say something?"

Feliks felt a tear drip onto his arm.

"..Buck?" he replied weakly, the word coming out no louder than a whisper.

"Yeah, it's—" Buck laughed in a contradicting mixture of relief and anxiety, patting his friend on the leg. "It's me. It's Buck. Just— Just stay there, okay? Stay down. Stay still. You're hurt, Feliks. I'm taking care of you."

"Wha.." Feliks felt dizzy and numb. He was hurt? He didn't know where. He didn't feel hurt. He just felt... disoriented. He tried to sit up, and Buck gently pushed him back down.

"Stay. You can't sit up. I'm stitching your arm up, just stay still, please."

His arm...? Feliks turned his head and looked at the arm Buck was sitting next to. He wished he hadn't.

His wrist had a long, wide slit down the middle, which Buck had already stitched a quarter of. Blood had pooled around him and was seeping into his clothes. He finally forced himself to look away before the needle pierced his skin again.

"What... What ha.." Feliks mumbled, barely audible. "Buck? I'm cold."

Bucks eyebrows knitted together at this, and he quickly turned back to the bed, grabbing a small blanket and covering the other man.

"It'll be alright," he reassured, returning his focus to the wound, "You're gonna be fine, mate. I just gotta.. Gotta finish this and stop the bleeding before I take you to the hospital."

Before he knew it, Buck was done, and after a brief struggle, Feliks was being lifted up and placed into the passenger seat of a car. He saw a key turn, the sickeningly fast blur of their surroundings, and then nothing.

When he woke up, everything was white. That was the first thing he noticed. The second thing was that he felt like absolute _shit_. He felt sore all over, especially in his forearm, his mouths were dry, and his head was throbbing. He considered going back to sleep—

"Feliks?"

He tried to sit up and see who was talking, but he could barely lift his head. Sure enough, though, the person shyly popped up in his field of vision.

"Hey," Buck whispered softly, walking over to the side of the bed, "how are you feelin'?"

"Bad," he replied, his voice not sounding any better than it did yesterday. Buck grimaced, gently patting him on the shoulder.

"Well.. That's why you're here," he offered. "To make you feel better, y'know?"

Feliks gave him a weak smile in response and reached out to hold his friend's hand. Buck ran his thumb along his skin as a comforting gesture.

He stepped back as a nurse entered the room, checking his vitals and making sure everything was alright. She said they could bring him down some food in a minute if he was hungry, which he declined, and like that, she was gone as quick as she came. Buck stepped back up to the bedside, taking Feliks' hand again.

"..Feliks?"

"Yeah?"

"You can talk to me."

Feliks pursed his lips together and rolled his head to the side.

"I know." He cleared his throat. "..I'm sorry."

"There's nothin' to be sorry for, mate.. Just— Know I'm here for you, alright? I love you, I don't want anythin' bad to happen to you."

"I love you too, Buck." Feliks turned back to him. "..Thank you."

There was a moment of peaceful silence, them simply relaxing and holding each other's hands.

"..Buck?"

"Hm?"

"Could you go get me something from the vending machines? It's better than the actual hospital food."

Buck snorted.

"Sure."


End file.
